


Silent Spring

by TheKingParrot



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-09-27 19:44:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17168201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKingParrot/pseuds/TheKingParrot
Summary: The book "Silent Spring" was a ground-breaking work in the development of modern environmentalism.  It becomes an essential element of this story.I wrote this whilst waiting for overseas travellers.  Sitting in airports drives me crazy, but with an iPad, wi-fi, headphones and a wireless keyboard there's no need to be bored. It was originally three chapters, but it's grown a life of its own since I started it.It definitely belongs in the fluffier category.





	1. Fair Trade

 

His family referred to him as an Eco-Warrior.  He’d always been the outdoors type, and his degree in Environmental Science had added to his resolve and staunch membership of environmental groups.  Jamie couldn’t tolerate wasted resources, climate change deniers, or resistance to the expansion of renewable energy resources.  It concerned him that people in the First World were so extravagant when children in the Third World were living in virtual slavery.  He worked hard on the family farm, but his spare time was largely taken up with lobby groups and fund-raising.

The _Fair Trade_ group he was chairperson of were organising promotion events, designed to encourage the sale of goods produced using ethical and sustainable methods and paying a living wage to the producers in the third world.  The other members of the group felt the special event they were planning needed some celebrity clout.  If they could get a celebrity chef to help promote the foodstuffs, an artist to endorse the artwork and a designer to recommend the fashion they might increase awareness and sales.

Jamie wasn’t sure he liked the idea of luminaries or ‘egos on legs’ but he’d been outvoted.  He left the scouting to others while he organised the nitty gritty aspects.

“What do ye think of Tom Kitchin as celeb chef?”, Willie asked.

“Why him?”, Jamie asked.

“Well, he did write _From Nature to Plate._ Sounds like yer type and he’s a Michelin star guy”, Willie replied.

“And that’s good is it?”, Jamie asked with a grin.

Willie started to explain what a Michelin star meant, then realised: “Ye’re having a rise of me, eh mate?”

“Aye.  If ye can talk him into it, he sounds great”, Jamie smiled.

Willie was one of the younger volunteers, but what he lacked in age he made up for in enthusiasm.  Jamie hoped he could get Kitchin enthused.

Jamie trusted his mother, Ellen, with acquiring the services of an artist.  She was quite well known in fine art circles and had a wide network of contacts.

The fashion designer was proving to be more difficult.  Laoghaire, keen to impress Jamie at any time, said she had some ideas and to leave it to her.

As the weekend of the promotion loomed closer, Kitchin had agreed to make appearances.  Ellen was delighted to have talked Peter Howson into attending – his work had sold to well-known collectors like David Bowie, Mick Jagger and Madonna – which was quite a coup.  Laoghaire had found a Victoria’s Secret model who lived in northern England who agreed to help by leading a fashion show featuring local wannabe models. 

“A model?  I thought we were looking for a designer”, Jamie asked Laoghaire. 

“She’s been on catwalks in New York, London, Paris and Milan, amongst others.  She’s modelled for some of the most famous designers in the world, Jamie.  And she’s agreed to do it for free.  She has a friend she can visit while she’s in Edinburgh.  We were lucky to get her at all.”  Laoghaire felt she never quite did enough to keep Jamie happy, but that didn’t mean she gave up.  The girl was nothing if not persistent.

“OK.  I hope it works out”, Jamie shrugged. 

Jamie, Willie, Laoghaire, Ellen and a large group of volunteers were busy setting up stalls and banners when The Model arrived.  Jamie had been expecting a tall blonde wearing masses of make-up, a fake tan, high heels and ridiculously impractical clothing.  The woman standing with Laoghaire had pale skin like ivory, long dark hair, jeans, a cap, sneakers, a leather jacket and the most bewitching eyes he’d ever seen.  Laoghaire must have said something that amused her, as she threw her head back and chortled – a sort of cross between a chuckle and a snort.  He was pleasantly surprised at her lack of pretence.

The food promotion seemed to go off well and sales were quite good.  Similarly, there were plenty of customers interested in meeting Peter Howson, which increased interest in the art products.  Jamie and Ellen were strolling over to the area reserved for the fashion show.  The music started, and the young models began their nervous catwalk entrances. 

Ellen was watching carefully: “Look at that experienced model.  She’s encouraging the young local lasses and giving them tips.  They must be loving it.”

“Aye, Laoghaire seems to think she’s amazing.  I canna see how difficult it is to walk in a straight line”, Jamie shrugged.

About ten minutes into the fashion show, Claire Beauchamp appeared in the most expensive dress Fair Trade had in their collection.  She took a few carefully timed steps forward and, in perfect time with the music, began her walk.  Jamie was mesmerized.  She wasn’t swanning down that catwalk, she was a gazelle – lean, agile and sylphlike.  As she reached the end of the catwalk, she shifted her hips, so the dress flowed outward and a long stretch of one leg was visible.  She wore a flirtatious smile that Jamie wanted to believe was directed at him and him alone.

Ellen nudged him: “That woman is all class.  What a consummate professional.  Every eye is on her, she is so charismatic.”

Jamie nodded in agreement, speechless.  Ellen looked sideways and smiled.  She’d never seen Jamie smitten before.  She pushed his jaw upward: “Stop gaping James.  Ye look like ye’re catching flies”, she grinned.

A dozen more lasses did their walks.  Claire was the final model.  This time she wore a skimpy top and a pair of wide-leg pants.  The top was figure hugging and she filled it perfectly.  Jamie adjusted the bulge in his pants as her breasts bounced and her perfect arse shifted – just for him.  Christ, she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen.

The final run along the catwalk was Claire leading the tween and teenage models, clapping and congratulating them as the show ended.  Claire smiled and waved to the crowd.  Half an hour later fashion stocks had almost sold out and orders were being taken, particularly for the most expensive dress modelled by Claire.  Sales already totalled more than had been sold by their outlet in the previous year.  Claire was also matching the clothing with jewellery and scarves from the art section, suggesting combinations and helping young girls with earrings, necklaces and bracelets.

Laoghaire was over the moon, until she saw Jamie heading towards Claire Beauchamp wearing an expression she’d never seen before.  He was captivated. 

Jamie had no idea what he was going to say to Claire when he reached her.  He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and approached her: “I … I’m Jamie Fraser.  I’m the chairperson of the organising committee.  I wanted to thank you for making such a success of the fashion show and …”.  She turned to face him and smiled.  Her eyes were focussed on him alone and he was momentarily mute.  “And … and I wondered if you’d like to join me for lunch”, he asked.

“That’s very kind, Jamie.  Laoghaire has set me up to give a makeup session with some of the girls fairly soon.  I want to promote the cruelty-free range offered by Fair Trade.  But a pot of tea would be divine”, she smiled.

He had no idea where he could get a pot of tea, but he would have flown the tea leaves in from India if it would get him five minutes in the company of Claire Beauchamp.  He was saved by one of the volunteers: “There’s a wee café on the corner which does pots of tea.  They have quite a range too”, the girl suggested.

Laoghaire looked on as Jamie walked towards the café with Claire.  She was _not_ happy.  Not only had she not been invited, Jamie never paid this much attention to her.  This was not what she’d anticipated when she talked Claire Beauchamp into performing in the fashion show.  She needed to find a spanner to throw into the works – soon.


	2. Common Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire find common interests but Laoghaire finds a "spanner" to throw into the situation.

The corner café was packed downstairs, but the waiter told them there was a table for two upstairs by the window, and Jamie and Claire were the only customers who ventured up the stairs.  Claire placed her shoulder bag on the table and a few books fell out: an original copy of _Silent Spring_ by Rachel Carson and _Silent Spring Revisited_ by Conor Mark Jameson.

Jamie held up Carson’s book, which was well thumbed.  Passages were underlined in pencil and page corners were turned down at regular intervals.  It had been a much-loved and oft read book.

“I was never able to get a first edition of this book”, Jamie told her.  “It’s over fifty years old now, ye ken”.

“This first edition belonged to my uncle, who was a very well-read man.  He always maintained that it was the catalyst for the modern environmental movement.  I’m re-reading it before I read Jameson’s text”, Claire told him.  “Later editions were edited, and sections rewritten, I think to the detriment of the original text.  I prefer to read it in its original form.”

Jamie was surprised by The Model again.  He was a bit ashamed to think that he had judged Claire against his pre-conceived notions of the pretty air-head model with a good body.  There was clearly a lot more to Claire Beauchamp than he had originally assumed.

“Aye, I see what ye mean.  To read it as the author originally intended, you mean?”, he asked.

“Exactly.  I’ve read it several times before.  Would you like to borrow it?  You can post it back to me when you’ve finished it – you must promise though, it’s a favourite of mine”, Claire offered.

Jamie was taken aback by her generosity: “That’s verra kind of ye, Claire.  I would appreciate that.  Are ye sure?”

“You seem genuinely interested in environmental and social issues, Jamie.  I’ll just jot down my postal address for you.  Pop it in a padded bag and post it to me when you’ve read it.  Just leave my annotations as is please, as I often refer to them when I’m talking about the development of ethical fashion, or possibly the lack of it.”  Claire took a sheet of paper from her shoulder bag and wrote out her address:

_Claire Beauchamp, Brockhole Farm, Windermere, Lake District_

 She slipped the piece of paper inside the front cover of the book and poured some tea.  Jamie peeked at the address:  “’Brockhole’ – there’s something familiar about that name, Claire”.

“Brockhole was the home of Beatrix Potter’s cousin, Edith.  Part of the property was bequested to the National Trust, but I bought the remainder.  As a child, I had a complete collection of Beatrix Potter books.  For me, the movie _Miss Potter_ brought back wonderful memories.  It was the movie that inspired me to start searching for a property in the Lake District, and Brockhole Farm is a dream come true for me. Her books and Uncle Lamb were the only safe places I had when I grieved the death of my parents.  I had a lot of conversations with Peter Rabbit and Mrs Tiggy Winkle.  They gave the best advice.”

“Timmy Tiptoes – it was my favourite”, Jamie laughed.  “But I’m verra sorry to hear you lost yer parents, Claire.  When my Da died, I mourned for a long while.  I still do, I suppose.  Being on the farm and supporting my mother have helped me to maintain a close bond with him, even in death.”

“I understand.  When Lamb died as well, I was bereft.  I sought a lot of solace in the Lake District – walking, gardening, enjoying the wildlife, contemplating life in general”, Claire told him.

Jamie sipped his coffee: “I had assumed ye’d live in London, Claire.  Close to all the fashion houses, night clubs and restaurants.”

Claire rolled her eyes: “London? No. My agency puts me up in hotels when I’m in a city for work, but I prefer to live in the country.  The fashion industry can be a cess pool at times and a bolt hole is essential for me.  I have done well from it, in terms of travel and providing the finance to do the things I love, but I am planning an exit strategy once I’ve achieved my goals.  And you?”

After listening to her, he was feeling insignificant: “I live and work on the family farm, but I spend quite a bit of time in Edinburgh working on social issues like Fair Trade.”

“Lucky you – the family farm.  To enjoy that lifestyle and the continuity, the sense of community, I’m quite jealous.”  She was about to tell Jamie why she envied him that lifestyle when Laoghaire made an appearance at the top of the stairs.

“Ah, Claire.  The young lasses are ready for yer make up session, will ye be long?”, Laoghaire asked.

Jamie wasn’t impressed at the smirk on Laoghaire’s face.  He was sure she wanted to be the gatecrasher, preventing him from getting to know Claire.  She succeeded – Claire grabbed her shoulder bag, then leaned forward and pecked Jamie’s cheek: “I’ve enjoyed our chat, Jamie.  I’m sorry we couldn’t talk for longer.”  And she was gone.

A peck on the cheek that felt like it was burning a hole in his soul and Claire’s copy of _Silent Spring._ That was all that was left of Claire Beauchamp.  His heart was in his socks.  He’d have been much happier if it had found its way to his jocks.

As Laoghaire walked away with Claire, she was full of stories to share with the model about how long she had known Jamie, how they were childhood sweethearts, when she hoped they would marry and how many bairns they planned on having.

Claire made the appropriate approving noises, when in reality she envied Laoghaire.  The tall, red-headed Scot was a rare authentic person, almost unknown in the industry she worked in.  Someone who enjoyed living and working on the land, as she planned to do when she made her eventual exit from the fashion world.  He was the kind of person she would love to meet and settle down with, but she knew from experience that genuine people with strong links to family and the environment were rare beasts and difficult to find in a world obsessed with money and accumulating assets that nobody actually needed.

Jamie sipped his coffee.  He stared at the book Claire had lent him and looked at the neat comments she had pencilled in the margins.  An intelligent woman with a love of the country, a social conscience, beautiful eyes and a perfect arse.  What more could a man want?  He thought for five minutes and then quickly finished his coffee and headed back towards the area Laoghaire’s fashion lasses had occupied.  He could catch Claire and invite her to dinner, maybe arrange for her to visit Lallybroch.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

He found Laoghaire packing boxes with the remains of the day.

“Where’s Claire talking to the lasses?”, he asked looking around.

“Oh, they’d all gone by the time we got back.  Claire has left with her fiancé and is heading back home.  He’s verra handsome and was driving an incredibly expensive car.  Just the type you’d expect her to be engaged to, I suppose”, Laoghaire smiled.

Disappointed, Jamie looked around.  There was no sign of Claire, but Jamie spotted his mother waving in the distance and walked away.  His Da had always told him that he’d know the right woman when he met her.  He hadn’t mentioned she might already be promised to someone else.  He popped Claire’s book in his jacket pocket and headed home.


	3. Road trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie decides to take a road trip after reading a newspaper article.
> 
> I had envisaged this being a three chapter tale, but I suspect it will be more like five chapters. I'll let you know when I know!

 

Over the next month or so, Jamie read _Silent Spring_.  He needed his reading glasses to read Claire’s annotations, in tiny but incredibly neat print.  There were also a few comments written in a larger, wilder script which he assumed had been written by her Uncle Lamb, the original owner of the book.  Like Claire, he was aware some of Carson’s assertions had since been questioned, but he could see why it had been regarded as a ground-breaking book in its day.

Laoghaire continued to send irritating text messages in the hope of setting up pointless meetings.  Two dates in the first year of university and she had pestered him ever since.  There seemed to be nothing he could do, other than ignore her constant missives.

He was meeting Willie for coffee one Saturday morning.  They had some events to organise and publicity to consider.  Willie was already in the café when Jamie arrived, reading a weekend newspaper.

“Any news of interest?”, Jamie asked.

“The usual nonsensical stuff from Trump, a tsunami in Indonesia, Brexit” (he groaned).  “Oh, and have a look at this.  Isn’t that the woman who did the _Fair Trade_ fashion show?”.  Willie handed the folded newspaper over to Jamie.

There was a photograph of Claire Beauchamp, which immediately stirred his loins.  The heading was _Victoria’s Secret model retires from fashion industry to pursue personal interests._

Jamie’s personal interests were also stirred, so he read on.

> _Claire Beauchamp, the highly successful VS model who has graced the catwalks of Europe and the US, today announced her retirement from the industry.  The beautiful model, who has worked with such iconic brands as Dolce and Gabanna, Dior, Lacroix and Chanel, said she would retire to her farm in the Lake District._
> 
> _It had been rumoured she was to marry an unknown suitor, but Ms Beauchamp denied this, telling reporters that: ‘The only male in my life is my border collie, Pedro.  Even he has a mate, another border collie I named Lolita.  Pedro is besotted’._
> 
> _Ms Beauchamp has a strong interest in environmental and social issues and indicated that she wanted to become more involved in areas such as reforestation, Fair Trade and issues around fast fashion trends._
> 
> _Stefana Gabanna was quoted as saying: ‘Domenico [Dolce] and I are heartbroken.  Claire is one of our favourite models – always professional, always gracious and tremendous fun.  We will miss her greatly.’_

Jamie’s mind went into over-drive.  Had she been engaged and broken it off?  Was she trying to put reporters off the scent?  Was she single?  Willie was speaking to him, but he wasn’t hearing a word the poor chap was saying.  _Silent Spring_ was at home in his cottage on the estate.  Inside the cover was her address.  Maybe he could return it in person and see Claire.  He could just say he was passing through on the way to … somewhere.

He stood, handed Willie’s newspaper back to him, left his freshly brewed coffee and headed out of the café.  As an afterthought, he turned to Willie: “Sorry mate.  Just remembered something important I have to do.  I owe ye a coffee.”

Willie sat there open mouthed as Jamie walked out to the street, donned his helmet, jumped on his motor bike and headed off.  Clearly, the man was on a mission.

Jamie headed back to Lallybroch apace.  His guts were churning and his mind whirring.  When he arrived back at the cottage, he grabbed a leather satchel and popped Claire’s copy of _Silent Spring_ in it with her address.  He charged his mobile phone and checked his wallet for cash and cards.  While the phone was charging, he darted down to the main house.

Ellen was in the kitchen with Mrs Crook, preparing preserves from the harvest of plums and other fruits.

“Ma, I’m just going on a road trip.  Probably be back tonight”, he told Ellen.

Before she could ask where or why, Jamie was out the door.  He filled a flask with cold water, collected a few protein bars to munch, grabbed his mobile and satchel, and was gone.

As he rode south, he was busily debating with himself.  Rushing probably wasn’t rational.  If she didn’t have a man in her life, she was unlikely to meet someone in the 2 ½ to 3 hours it would take him to get there, his rational self thought.  His emotional self argued – I need to know, and the sooner the better.  His rational self thought she might not be there.  His emotional self argued that she could be planning to leave for months in 4 hours and if he didn’t get there soon, he’d miss his chance to see her.

He took 2 hours and 10 minutes to get to Windermere, which was probably an indication that he’d sped at some point.  The National Trust section of _Brockhole_ was well sign-posted, but _Brockhole Farm_ less so.  He finally found a sign on the farm gate and looked up the drive.  He could just see a car port with a single hybrid car inside.  He rode up the drive.

When he got off the motor bike and removed his helmet, he poured a little water on his head and roughed up his hair.  He figured just about everyone hates that coconut head look with sweaty, flattened hair.

The cottage was quintessential Lake District: a period cottage constructed from stone, a beautiful green garden with hollyhocks, ivy creeping up some walls, a slate roof.  There was a small cover over the porch.  He knocked on the door and waited for a response.  Nothing.  He saw a bell peeking out behind a bush beside the door and rang it.  Soon there were footsteps on the gravel and Claire appeared from a side gateway.

“Jamie.  What a nice surprise”, Claire said smiling.

“Ye remember me then?”, he said with some relief.

“Of course.  A pot of tea in a café in Edinburgh.  You had coffee.  We’d been involved in the _Fair Trade_ exhibit”, she recalled.

“Aye.  Ye lent me yer copy of _Silent Spring_ ”.

“I did.  Are you returning it in person?  That’s so kind.  Please, come in the back way.  I’ve just been with my dogs.  The bitch is close to having her puppies, so she’s taken over the conservatory at the rear”, Claire explained.

As they walked to the rear of the property, Jamie looked closely at Claire.  She was wearing torn jeans, an indecently tight top with a V neck, her hair up in a loose bun and no makeup whatsoever.  She was absolutely stunning.  He thought she could don the clothing from the scarecrow in the vegetable garden and still look sexy and beautiful.

They walked through the conservatory, where the expectant dog was sleeping, and into the country kitchen.

“Now, have you had any lunch?”, Claire asked.

“No, but please …”, before Jamie could continue Claire interrupted.  “Jamie, I assume you’ve ridden from Edinburgh or thereabouts, you must be thirsty and you’re almost certainly hungry, do not argue with me on this.”

“What are you having?”, Jamie asked.

“I’ve cooked a spinach quiche, there’s potato salad in the fridge, I have home-grown tomatoes and cucumber and I can knock up a fruit salad in five minutes.  Sound OK?” asked Claire.

“Sounds wonderful, Claire.  Thank ye, truly”, Jamie smiled.  (He was actually thinking “god, she cooks as well.  Is there anything about this woman that isn’t perfect?”)

Fifteen minutes later, Jamie was eating lunch with a glass of wine and Claire Beauchamp.  Heaven on earth.  He wanted to broach the subject of her marital status as casually as possible and decided to follow up on what Laoghaire had told him about her fiancé.

“Yer fiancé doesna live here then?”, he asked.

Claire looked confused.  “I’m not married to or engaged to anyone, Jamie.  What gave you that impression?”

“Laoghaire told me that your fiancé picked you up after the fashion show in Edinburgh”, James told her.

“Laoghaire?  Your girlfriend with the blonde hair?”, Claire asked.

Jamie’s head rose sharply.  “My girlfriend?  Laoghaire’s not my girlfriend.”

Claire finished chewing her food and grinned.  “I think you’ll find Laoghaire is a saucy little minx with a huge crush on you then, Jamie.  She told me you were planning to marry and was even talking about how many bairns the two of you might have.  Vivid imagination then?”

Jamie dropped his cutlery: “She actually said that?”

“Indeed, she did.  Seems she was a bit rattled”, Claire laughed.

Jamie was so shocked that he didn’t think before opening his mouth.  “Aye, well I guess she saw how I looked at you.  Even my mother told me to stop gaping because I looked like I was catching flies.”

The moment the last word left his mouth, he put his head face down on the table.  “Oh fuck, did I just say that?”

Claire was laughing hysterically: “Oh shit, I snorted!”

Jamie was mortified, holding his head in his hands: “I am so embarrassed, Claire.  I canna believe I made such a fool of myself.”

Claire felt a wave of guilt for laughing so openly at him.  “I’m sorry Jamie.  I understand why Laoghaire lied to me though.  You’re a gorgeous man and so … real.  She just wanted to keep you to herself.  She did go a bit over the top though, didn’t she?”

Jamie wondered if he was hearing things.  Claire just called _him_ gorgeous?  He must get his ears checked.

Claire held his arm: “Anyway, I think we’ve established that we’re both single, unattached or whatever you want to call it.  I was just asked when I was going to marry at a press conference because the reporters assumed the only reason I’d retire was to shack up with someone.”

“Why did ye retire, Claire?”, Jamie asked.

“I had put on 1.2 kilos and you’d have thought it was the end of the world.  My agent was borderline hysterical.  She made it sound like I’d moved into the obese category.  It was the last straw for me.  Come and have a look at this cottage and maybe you’ll appreciate why I’d prefer to be here than starving in a London hotel room”.

Claire showed him a plan on the kitchen wall which she had drawn up for the reforestation of a third of the farm.  She was also researching the establishment of a truffle farm to raise money for her conservation pursuits.

She took him by the hand and led him further into her home.  He was so glad he’d acted on impulse and come to Windermere, but he had no idea what to expect.  He hoped he wasn’t getting his hopes up only to have them dashed. 


	4. Getting to know you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jamie get to know one another, with some unexpected admissions.

Claire took Jamie’s hand and led him into the next room.  He wanted to pull her towards him there and then, maybe eat her alive, but he was still feeling like an idiot after his fly-catching comment.

The adjoining room was beautiful, if a little risky for someone as tall as him.  Lowish ceilings with oak beams, bookcases filled with leather-bound books, antiques, high-backed chairs, velvet curtains, a walnut grandfather clock and Persian rugs.

She went to take her hand from his.  “Please dinna do that”, Jamie said looking at her directly.

“Do what?”, said Claire.

“Take away yer hand”, he told her.

Claire looked surprised.  It was a few moments before she quietly said: “Why?”

“I did bring yer copy of _Silent Spring_ back but it’s no’ really why I came”, he said a little shyly.

“Why did you come then?”, she asked.

“I saw a newspaper this morning with yer photo and I read what ye said about not being married or engaged.  I didna come before because I thought you _were_ engaged to be married, but when I found out ye maybe weren’t I came straight away.  I’ve wanted to see ye since that time we were together in Edinburgh.  I havena stopped thinking about ye at all, day or night. I’ve been reading yer annotations in _Silent Spring_ and was amazed at how insightful ye are.  Ye’re beautiful but ye’re so interesting as well. It’s a wee bit embarrassing, maybe a bit silly, but I think I’m in love with ye”.  When he’d finished, he looked down at the Persian rug until Claire ran two fingers under his chin and lifted it: “That’s not silly at all, it’s beautiful” she said as she kissed him.

He thought that should have been the magic moment when he ravished her on the antique Persian rug amid the sounds of harps and cellos, but it was instead the moment Pedro started howling and Lolita squealed – the puppies were hijacking their romantic encounter.

Claire looked at Jamie with a smile: “Just hold that feeling, Jamie.  I think I’m about to increase the population of Brockhole Farm, or at least the dog is.”  She ran her hand down his arm.  “Can you give me a hand?”

Jamie was still reeling from the kiss, but he snapped back to reality when he heard Pedro barking loudly.  He rolled up his sleeves, tucked his trousers in his socks and asked Claire if she had an apron.

“You’ve done this before?”, Claire asked.

“Aye.  Dogs, cats, sheep, goats, cows, horses.  Ducks are so much easier”, he laughed.

The next few hours were spent in the conservatory as puppy after puppy was delivered with Jamie’s help.  The final count was eight and they were all healthy and hungry.  Jamie was eventually a complete mess as Claire looked on in awe, grabbing old towels and warm water as required.  When the final puppy had been delivered, the dirty towels and bedding were removed and binned.

“Jamie, thank you so much.  You need a shower.  Leave your clothes outside the bathroom door and I’ll wash them immediately.  Then I’ll get you a whisky.  I’ve still got some clothes of Lamb’s in the spare room.  I’ll dig some out for you.”  Claire took Jamie’s hand and led him to the bathroom.

When Jamie emerged from the bathroom, he was wearing some of Lamb’s old clothes.  Sadly, Jamie was significantly taller than Lamb so the track pants he wore ended just below his knees.  He couldn’t do up the shirt at all.  Both he and Claire got the giggles.  Claire sat him down in a comfortable chair and offered him a whisky.

“So, Jamie.  We were rudely interrupted by the canines.  In summary, I think you’re gorgeous and you think that you _might_ be in love with me”, Claire smiled.

Jamie downed his whisky.  “I suppose ye could say that, Claire.”

“I’d like to tell you something, Jamie”, Claire said seriously.

“I’m listening”, Jamie told her, sitting forward in the chair.

“I think people assume that I am happy and showered with love because I’m well known and successful.  The truth is very different.”

Jamie looked concerned as Claire became quite emotional.

“I’ve had two relationships in the past four years.  The first was with an actor who I thought loved me.  We travelled together, dined together, went to parties.  I used to wonder how the paparazzi always seemed to know where we would be.  I found out after three months that he and his agent would contact them in advance.  I was nothing more than a photo opportunity for an actor who wanted to be in the news.  I was better known than he and I was his source of publicity.  One of my favourite fashion photographers finally told me.  I was so hurt.”

She stopped to wipe a tear from her cheek.

“The other was the owner of a model agency.  He used to invite me to parties and opening nights.  I found out that he would screw young wannabes while I was away modelling.  I felt like such a fool when one of his young conquests told me I was ‘over the hill’.  He just wanted to boast that a well-known model was interested in him.  That was guaranteed to attract young bimbos to his bed.  So, I haven’t been in a relationship at all for almost two years.”

Jamie sat there in shock. 

“So, when you told me you loved me, I thought ‘here we go again’.  But then you told me I was insightful and interesting.  You had read my annotations.  You drove down here as soon as you found out I _wasn’t_ engaged, even though you already knew that I was no longer a Victoria’s Secret model.  I watched you with Lolita and her puppies and you were so gentle and loving and I thought ‘he’s different’.  So, Jamie, you need to know that I’m a very insecure person, but I think I would be prepared to take a risk with you.  Are you still interested knowing that?”

“Definitely”, he smiled in disbelief.

Claire moved slowly on to his lap, ran her hand down his bare chest and kissed him.  Once he’d survived the initial shock, Jamie locked his arms around her and kissed her until she was breathless.  Claire laid back on his shoulder for a moment, then smiled and told him: “Yes, I like this arrangement very much.”

“Now, I’ll find something else for you to wear and take you for a walk around Brockhole Farm.  I want to tell you about my plans and get your ideas.”  They eventually found some clothes that fitted Jamie a little better, Claire hung his clothes on the clothes line and they headed off around the farm.

Jamie was impressed with Claire’s knowledge of the farm and her plans.  He was even more impressed when they stopped at every third or fourth tree to kiss and fondle.  God, this was a dream he never dared to believe would come true.

From Claire’s perspective, she found she could be spontaneous and at ease with Jamie.  It was just the two of them in an environment she loved.  She thought this might be what it was to be happy.

As the skies turned grey, they headed back to the house hand in hand.  As they got close to the back door, Jamie stopped Claire and held her by the shoulders: “I need to tell ye, Claire.  I havena been with anyone for several years either.  I had two disastrous dates with Laoghaire about three years ago, and after that I decided to wait until I found someone who was special to me.  Ye are that someone Claire Beauchamp and I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Claire threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.  “There’s the two of us now”, she told him.

“Aye.”

They ran inside the house as the rain began to fall.


	5. Second breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jamie share breakfast and have surprise visitors.

An electric storm lit up the darkened sky.  The thunder and lightning provided a dramatic display from the conservatory, where Claire and Jamie regularly checked the puppies and their parents. In the warmth of the cosy lounge room, Claire ran through the favourite books in her collection and explained to Jamie the significance of each of the ancient artefacts on her shelves.  They would touch and kiss regularly as they became used to the idea of being in the first stages of a relationship.

“You cannot ride your motor bike back to Scotland tonight, Jamie”, said Claire as the electric storm was followed by torrential rainfall.  “I’d be too worried about you.”

They sat by the fire, each of them sipping wine.  Claire was reading, while Jamie was sketching some ideas he had for Claire’s farm.  After a while, he looked up to see she had fallen asleep.  He rose and gently lifted Claire from the wing chair.  He carried her up the stairs and placed her on the bed, covering her with a blanket and bedspread.

Jamie didn’t want to do anything presumptuous with Claire.  He was now aware that she felt nervous about entering into a new relationship, given her chequered past, so he slipped off his trousers, jacket and boots and climbed into the spare bed.  He lay there reflecting on what had been a remarkable day, and soon drifted off to sleep.

In the early hours of the following morning, he woke to find that the temperature had dropped dramatically.  He thought the pups might be too cold in the conservatory, so he donned a tee shirt and boxer shorts and quietly crept down the stairs.  The conservatory was indeed _very_ cold.  He lifted the pet basket, complete with all eight pups, and carried it into the kitchen, closely followed by Lolita and Pedro.  Then he lit the stove to provide some extra warmth for the canine family.

He was standing in the dimly lit kitchen when he heard the lounge light switch flick and Claire walked into the doorway.  She was wearing a semi-sheer nightdress and the light behind her shone through it, showing an outline of her voluptuous body.  Her hair hung down in waves over her shoulders.  He could feel his boxer shorts filling with lust at the sight of her.

“Are you okay Jamie?  I woke to the sounds of movement downstairs”, she said quietly.

“Aye, I was just concerned that the pups might get too cold, Sassenach, but they’re alright now”, he told her.

She walked over to him and felt his bare forearms: “But you’re cold now Jamie.”

“I’m fine.  I didna want to disturb ye.”

Claire ran her arms around his waist and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear: “Jamie, can I ask you to do something for me?”

Jamie’s voice faltered as he replied: “Aye Claire.  What is it?”

“I want you to come upstairs with me. I am going to undress you and then you are going to undress me.  I am going to lie on the bed with my legs wide apart and you are going to ravage me.  I might scream for mercy, but you are to ignore me.  I have waited an entire month for you to come find me and now I want you.  I want to feel your beautiful body envelop mine.  Do you think you can do that?”

Jamie didn’t speak.  He lifted her and carried her up the stairs.  He was going to be a man of action rather than words.

Jamie clothes were the first to hit the floor, quickly followed by Claire’s.  A naked Jamie laid her on the bed and caressed her body as he showered her in passionate kisses, licked her nipples and felt her craving for more.  Claire traced her fingers over every part of his body she could reach, showing a particular love for his bare arse.  He teased between her legs with his fingers, slightly rough from the hours he spent working on the farm, until she was squealing for him to enter her and when he did, she became louder.

“Scream my name, Claire.  Please, I want to hear it”, he whispered in her ear.

When she did, he kept saying: “Again.  Who is yer master?  Tell me now.”  She screamed his name repeatedly until she felt her release, quickly followed by his.  When his breath returned, he quietly whispered in her ear: “Ye were wonderful in my dreams, but ye were magnificent in my arms.  I worship thee, Claire Beauchamp.”

“You will be my master, and I will be yours”, she said as she kissed him.

“Aye, I like the sound of that Sassenach”, he laughed.

They laid together like two dizzy teenagers drunk on love.  Claire spoke first: “Why did you put me to bed and go to the spare room?”

“I want you to know that I don’t just love ye, I respect ye.  But when ye invited me to yer bed, I couldna get here fast enough”, he laughed.

“Did you enjoy it?”, Claire asked.

“Enjoy it?  Christ Claire, I have had wet dreams about ye every night since I met ye but none of them lived up to the reality of making love to ye.  Yer body is like silk, yer soft breasts fill my hands and when I was inside ye I felt like the King of men.  Was it good for ye?” he asked.

“I don’t think good is an adequate word at all Jamie.  Let me think … divine, heavenly, blissful, with just a hint of animal lust.  Yes, you made me feel just a little bit slutty which I rather liked, Master.”

They both laughed as they ran their hands over one another. 

Claire’s hand ran down from Jamie’s chest to his groin: “I do believe you are rising to the occasion again, Master.  Would you like to make love again now, or would you prefer me to offer you breakfast sex in bed?”, she teased.

“Hmm, that’s a difficult choice, Sassenach.  I think I’ll opt for both provided you can be just a wee bit slutty for yer Master”, he smiled.

“Slutty or full-on whore?”, Claire asked as her leg crossed his waist.

“Slutty is fine.  I’m no’ sharing ye with anyone Claire Beauchamp.”

Jamie’s first breakfast the following morning was in the form of a naked Claire.  Rather like a Hobbit, he had a second breakfast – this time of croissants, jam, fruit and juice on a tray in bed.  For Jamie, the edible breakfast was a treat, but the highlight was that it was served by Claire in her semi-sheer nightdress.

Eventually, they ventured downstairs together to check on the puppies and make coffee.  As Jamie downed a mug of strong coffee, Claire opened the curtains and groaned.

“You OK Sassenach?”, Jamie asked.

“I think we’ve got paparazzi at the gate.  How the hell did they know I was with someone?”, Claire groaned.

Jamie sent a quick text and received a rapid response.

“Get yer glad rags on Claire.  We’re going down to the gate to have a chat with them.  My clothes dried in front of the fire”, Jamie told her.

“Have a chat with them?  They’ll pursue you Jamie to get any info they can”, Claire told him looking aghast.

“We’ll see”, Jamie smiled. 


	6. Highlight of the year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When I began this story, it was to be three chapters. It has morphed into six, this being the last. I enjoy writing the occasional shorter tale like this and 'White Christmas', but I also enjoy the challenge of a longer tale with a historic context.
> 
> In this final chapter, Claire and Jamie's relationship becomes common knowledge.

While Claire had a quick shower and dressed, Jamie wrote out a brief statement which he snapped on his phone.  He made himself presentable and waited for Claire.

Jamie hadn’t told Claire that he’d texted his mother to let her know where he was and that he would probably be home in a few days.  It was just something that he did to let her know he was alright. He had texted her again this morning to ask if anyone had rung.  Her response was swift: _Laoghaire rang.  Twice.  Told her you were in Lake District._

Jamie had suspected this would be the case.  Laoghaire had rung and texted him, but he had ignored her.

When Claire was ready, they walked hand in hand to the front gate, followed by Pedro.  The paparazzi were taken aback when Jamie approached them, hand outstretched and smiling.  He introduced himself and told them:

“This will be the first and last time we will speak to the press as a couple.  We are in a relationship and very happy.  We will allow you to take two photos of us provided you use the words in my statement.  The last paragraph is particularly important.  After this, the only statements either of us will make will be in relation to our interests in environmental and social issues.”

Jamie texted his statement to each of the photographers and he and Claire posed for them.  As Claire returned to the house with Pedro, Jamie had a short chat with the photographers and waved them farewell, then strolled back to the house.

“I’m in shock, Jamie.  No-one does that with the papps”, Claire told him.

“Claire, you were right.  They would have pursued us, and they might still, but I’m hoping that our cooperation with them will break down some barriers.  They told me that once these photos hit the press it will probably take some of the heat off us because we’ll be old news.  Let’s hope they’re right.”

They sat together and discussed the ideas Jamie had sketched out the previous night.  He had some ideas for the reforestation she proposed and the use of permaculture principles in another area of the farm.  She, in turn, had some thoughts on the development of Fair Trade outlets and microfinancing of sustainable businesses. 

“Ye must come to Lallybroch with me, Sassenach.  I want ye to meet my family and look at some of the work I’ve been doing there.”  His hand reached across the table and held hers: “My Ma will love ye, I know it.”

“Are you sure I won’t be that hussy who’s leading her son astray?  I mean, all that wiggling down catwalks and wearing skimpy clothes?”, Claire laughed.

“She actually said ye were all class and charismatic, just before she told me to stop gaping”, he smiled.

“Well, I’d love to meet her.  I want to congratulate her on raising such a wonderful son”, Claire said leaning over to kiss him.  “But I need to hang around for Lolita and the puppies for a few weeks.”

“Aye, that’s a point.  Maybe I could drive home and return in a few days.”

Jamie paused and looked at her lovingly: “I dinna want us to be apart for any longer than that Claire.  Now there’s the two of us I want us to share our lives as much as possible.”

Claire ran her arm around his shoulders: “Me too, Master.  I feel like I was born for you”, she told him as she kissed him.  “Do you want to go back to bed before lunch or after?” she asked as she flashed her boobs at him.

“Sassenach, how do ye feel about me ripping yer pants off and having my way with ye on the Persian rug?”, he asked as he grabbed her around the waist.

“And get carpet burn?  Only if you are underneath and I can ride you like a cowgirl”, she laughed provocatively.

“Will ye use a whip?” he smiled.

“Of course”, she said as she grabbed at his trouser zip.

“Deal”, Jamie said as they headed for the lounge room.

**_Later in the day_ ** _:_

While Claire was doing her best to prepare an evening meal, Jamie would sneak up behind her and kiss her on the neck, grab her boobs and whisper sweet obscenities in her ear.  Finally, he was banished from the kitchen: “But only for half an hour, Jamie.  After that everything will be in the oven and I want you to come back and grope me”, she instructed.

Jamie disappeared into the garden and rang Willie on his mobile.  He had a favour he wanted to ask of his friend and his instructions were very precise.  Willie was suitably amused and happy to be in on the plot.  After 25 minutes, Jamie realised it was time to resume groping duties.  As he approached the back door, he heard Claire call out: “Jamie, I’m laying on the kitchen table with my legs open, where are you?”

“God, I love that woman”, he muttered to himself as he burst in the back door and found she really was.

**_The next day:_ **

After two breakfasts in bed, Jamie rose and grabbed Claire’s iPad.  He wanted to see if the photographers had been good to their word.  He scrolled through one online paper and found a photograph of he and Claire with the heading: _Retired model Claire Beauchamp finds love._

_Claire Beauchamp, the former Victoria’s Secret model who recently retired from the catwalk, has found love with a Scotsman, James Fraser.  The two lovebirds were photographed yesterday at her Lake District home, where Beauchamp is planning reforestation and other environmental projects.  Fraser told photographers: “We are very much in love.  After this, the only statements either of us will make will be in relation to our interests in environmental and social issues, which are important to both of us.  We would ask for privacy in our personal lives._

_When asked how they met, Fraser said they had both been involved in a Fair Trade event in Edinburgh.  He wanted to thank Laoghaire Mackenzie for arranging the fashion exhibition at that event: ‘If it weren’t for Laoghaire, I might never have met the love of my life.’_

Claire read the article over his shoulder and guffawed at the last paragraph: “Oh my, she’s going to hate that!”

“I hope so.  She did her best to keep us apart Sassenach, but she failed.  I knew the moment I saw ye that there was only one woman for me.”

Jamie’s mobile rang.  It was Ellen: “Jamie, I just read the paper.  You two look wonderful together.  I’m so excited.  Bring Claire home soon, I can’t wait to meet her.  The phone is running hot here.  I was a bit confused by your reference to Laoghaire though – such an irritating girl.”

Jamie assured his mother he would explain everything to her when he saw her.

Later in the morning, Jamie got a text message from Willie, who had been in a meeting with Laoghaire and others.  As instructed by Jamie, Willie had bought the paper, opened it at the relevant page and handed it to Laoghaire.  His message read:

_I can’t decide whether L is going to die of rabies or spontaneous combustion. She is purple in the face and has cappuccino foam coming out of her mouth. Highlight of the year. W_

Jamie smiled and resumed groping duties, a routine he planned to maintain for the rest of his life.  He told Claire that she was never to dispose of the kitchen table.


End file.
